


Having Each Other

by April_Valentine



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/April_Valentine/pseuds/April_Valentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sort-of sequel to "No Rules, No Winners." This one takes place after the end of "Baby Blue" and is from Finch's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Having Each Other

"Be nice to have a child... children. Think that’ll ever happen?" Reese asked in that raspy, faint voice he used too often. Harold didn't answer. Instead he just turned to watch Leila's grandparents smiling as they held her. Reese went on. "Probably not... our line of work."

Harold agreed. He'd known for a long time that he'd never have children of his own. He murmured to Reese about not knowing how children would turn out, thinking not of Leila but of Elias, how Moretti's illegitimate son had turned out. Beside him, Reese sighed heavily. 

Harold climbed into the driver's side of the car and turned the key, waiting as Reese walked around to the passenger side. He seemed to have a bit of trouble opening the car door. Probably a result of his damaged wrists, Harold thought, though he made no mention of that as Reese finally opened the door and climbed into the vehicle. There were tension lines around Reese's mouth and eyes, he noted as he put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. His eyes looked haunted tonight, as if the anguish he must have felt handcuffed to a pipe in a freezing truck while Leila cried was still with him. He'd been in more strenuous altercations before and it hadn't seemed to drain him as much as what he'd been through on his case, Harold realized. He knew his partner was running on empty about now, but as usual, Reese didn't complain or even mention how he was feeling. 

That was something else they had in common. Harold didn't talk about his physical state either. He was glad that Reese didn't ask him about his health or his accident, though he knew the other man had never stopped trying to find out the facts of Harold's life. Yet Harold's own physical limitations were something Reese never mentioned, never seemed to even make note of. For that, Harold was glad. 

He understood why Reese didn't like him to help when he was injured. It was embarrassing to have another man see him vulnerable, probably even more for a man like Reese than for Harold himself. And though at the beginning of their partnership, Harold had tried to remain impersonal, the more Reese put himself in danger for the people they were trying to help, the more Harold felt responsible. He couldn't help but admire Reese's strength and stamina, but he also knew the man pushed himself too much sometimes. Ever since the CIA had tried to kill him in that parking garage, Harold hadn't been able to stop himself from worrying, though he tried not to show it too much. 

This evening, however, when he'd seen the mess Reese had made of his wrists, he hadn't been able to disguise his concern. He watched Reese now from the corners of his eyes as he drove, noting that he seemed to be having difficulty finding a comfortable position in which to sit. Reese shifted as he tried to prop his wrists and keep them from being jarred when the car hit the inevitable pot holes in the street. Harold drove more slowly, trying to help.

"Where are we going, Finch?" Reese asked after they'd gone several dozen blocks. "I really would like to take a shower and... "

"I know, Mr. Reese."

"Do you even know where I'm staying right now?"

"No, I don't. I suppose it's another of the lovely hotels you choose." Harold said the word 'lovely' with as sarcastic a tone as he could manage. "That's why we're going someplace where we both can rest more comfortably."

Reese glanced over at him, looking suddenly more alert. "Are you going to show me where you live, Finch?" he asked.

"Certainly not. But I have a safe house that will do." Harold managed not to smile as he turned onto a side street that was lined with old trees. Large houses that were set back from the street and surrounded with high fences marked the neighborhood. About half way down the block, Harold turned into a driveway. Following the drive up a long incline to the end, he pressed a control on the dashboard and the garage door opened. Beside him, Reese shook his head, a half smile playing around his lips. 

When the garage door closed behind them, Harold cut the engine and turned off the lights of the car. He shifted to regard Reese. "If you're ready, Mr. Reese?" 

Looking bemused, Reese opened the door and eased out. Harold locked the car and walked toward the door that led from the garage to the house. He didn't use this home often, but it was one he liked. It used to belong to a well to do judge who had died some years before. When it had gone up for sale, Harold had purchased it, keeping the original furnishings, while of course adding a better security system. 

Typing his code on the keypad, Harold waited for it to beep and then opened the side door. "Oh, I nearly forgot," he said, turning to Reese, "There's a bag for you in the trunk." He handed him the car keys and without waiting, entered the house.

"Very thoughtful of you, Finch," Reese murmured as he went to retrieve it.

Entering through the updated kitchen, Harold first filled the electric kettle and turned it on. He could do with a cup of tea. Then he went to the fridge and checked the ice maker. He began crushing some ice and was looking for plastic bags to fill when Reese came in with the small suitcase. 

"Take any room you'd like," Harold directed. "I'm sure you can find what you need in the bathroom if you'd like to shower."

"Okay." Reese didn't say more as he passed through the kitchen. Harold listened as he walked through the house and started up the stairs. 

Harold busied himself with making a pot of Sencha green tea from one of the new cans of the tea leaves he kept stocked in the house. He filled two bags with crushed ice as he heard the shower shut off, then headed towards the stairs with his cup of tea and the ice bags for Reese.

He found Reese in the back bedroom. His hair was damp and uncombed and he was wearing a towel around his waist. On the bed was the open suitcase.

"Would you like some tea, Mr. Reese? I made myself a cup but I know you're not as fond of it as I am." Harold stood in the doorway to the bedroom. 

"I'm fine, Harold," Reese said. If anything, his voice sounded more exhausted than it had before. 

"I brought you some ice for your hands." 

Reese turned to him and their eyes met. Harold had expected Reese to look as annoyed as he had back at the library about his injuries, but this time, he didn't. The little curved line at the side of his mouth was back, the one that Harold found so endearing. It was part smirk, part smile and when Harold saw it, with Reese standing there before him mostly unclothed, all he could think about was what that line would taste like if he could lick it, what it would look like wet from Harold's tongue. Smothering his involuntary erotic thoughts, he carefully kept his face as expressionless as possible as Reese took the bags of ice from him. Harold noticed that he'd removed the bandages from his wrists when he showered. They looked swollen and red. Harold said, "I put some more antibiotic and gauze in the suitcase."

Before Reese could answer, Harold turned and made his way down the hall to the bedroom he used when staying at the house. He set his tea on the bureau and stood there a moment, gripping the piece of furniture as he tried to quell the feelings that rushed through him. It wasn't the first time he'd recognized his attraction to Mr. Reese but it was somewhat... inconvenient having those thoughts at this time. Here they were, about to sleep in the same house, Reese exhausted and injured... and naked not twenty feet away. 

Harold drank his cooling tea but it did nothing to calm his nerves. He undressed, pulling out a pair of maroon silk pajamas and donning the matching robe, trying to keep his mind blank as he did so. He would take his own shower and go to bed and leave Mr. Reese alone to sleep. As he stepped into the hall, however, he was surprised to hear Reese call his name.

Harold walked as quickly as he could to Reese's door. "Yes?" 

Reese was seated on the bed, wearing the knit boxer briefs that Harold had bought and packed in the overnight bag for him. He'd included sleep pants, an undershirt, socks and a fresh white shirt as well, along with Reese's shaving toiletries from the library. When he glanced up, Reese's eyes looked large and sheepish. The first aid supplies were laid out on the night table but the man appeared to be having some trouble with them.

"I... uh... Can you give me hand here, Finch?" he asked.

Harold hesitated. "I was just about to shower, Mr. Reese." When he looked at the other man, he felt his face grow warm and he suspected that he was noticeably flushed as well.

"Oh. Okay," Reese responded. "Sorry." His face actually seemed to fall, as though he was either embarrassed to be asking Harold for help or that he was disappointed Harold was turning him down. 

Harold was about to say his shower could be postponed when Reese gave him that lopsided smile again. "I can wait till you're done," he said hopefully. "If you don't mind, Harold."

Certain he was being manipulated, Harold was about to offer a cryptic remark when Reese added, "It's kinda hard to wrap the bandages around my wrists and tape them. My fingers are a little stiff." The bashful tone and the look in the man's eyes were irresistible. 

Harold hobbled toward him. "I thought you didn't want them bandaged."

"You convinced me it was a good idea." Reese handed Harold the roll of gauze.

"Did you use the antibiotic?" Harold asked him. When Reese shook his head, Harold retrieved the tube from the night stand himself. 

Harold replayed the motions he'd performed earlier at the library, first applying the antibiotic cream to the abrasions on Reese's wrists, then wrapping the injuries loosely with gauze. The man's hands fascinated him. They were so strong, so steady, yet for such a large man Reese's fingers were surprisingly slender, almost delicate, artistic. Harold couldn't help wondering why Reese had chosen to put them to such violent use and if those hands ever expressed tenderness any more, or if they only held guns and clenched into fists. 

"Do you think she's all right?" Reese asked quietly as Harold finished with his left hand. 

"Leila?" He met Reese's eyes. "I'm sure she is. She's a very resilient little girl. And being with her grandparents is where she should be. She's safe and sound." He began wrapping gauze around Reese's right wrist.

"I'll miss her." Reese's voice seemed to catch on the words. 

Yes, Harold realized, those hands could be tender and gentle. Why Detective Carter had worried about John watching the baby mystified him. Without thinking, he lifted the hand he was holding to his lips, pressing a kiss to Reese's scarred knuckles. 

Stunned at what he'd just done, Harold couldn't look up. He cleared his throat. "I'll miss her too." Maybe Reese would just ignore what had happened. That, of course, was about as likely as the numbers stopping.

"Harold," Reese said. It wasn't a question or a reproach. His left hand cupped Harold's jaw, gently urging him to look up.

"I apologize, Mr. Reese. I think having a baby around made me a bit sentimental."

Reese's eyes weren't mocking him. They were full of warmth. Still grasping Harold's jaw, he leaned forward slowly until their lips met. 

For some reason, Harold had always imagined that the smooth, perfect lips would be cool to the touch. Reese always seemed cool, collected, calm, even when facing multiple armed men. But instead, his lips were warm and moist, pressing against Harold's with earnest intent, coaxingly opening and inviting Harold's tongue inside his mouth. Inside Reese's mouth was even warmer, his tongue strong and wet and luscious. He tasted of mouthwash from Harold's bathroom, and of hunger and despair. 

Harold kissed him with growing passion, abandoning the pretense that he wasn't interested in his employee sexually, forgetting that he hadn't been interested in anyone sexually for years. He'd watched John Reese for a very long time, imagined what he would be like, known the hurt and the anguish with which he lived and he had imagined being able to help him. He had wanted to give him a purpose as much as he wanted someone to help with the numbers that never stopped coming. Instead, he had found a partner, someone who cared as deeply as he did about the lives in which they had to intervene. He had watched Reese slowly begin to heal and knew the hurt that he still hid, the anger he took out on the kneecaps of those who stood in his way when another person was in danger.

Still, the thought came to him that this could be a major mistake. Not only would it irrevocably alter their working relationship, but he was leaving himself vulnerable to the other man, giving him more information than he should; showing more of himself than he had to any individual in years.

With regret, Harold pulled away. "Mr. Reese, what are you doing?" he managed, trying to sound as imperious as usual.

"Mr. Finch," Reese drawled, one finger stroking Harold's sideburn, "why did you bring me here?"

As usual, Reese cut right to the obvious, the heart of the matter. Harold had promised he'd never lie to him. He took a steadying breath. "I didn't think either of us should be alone tonight." That really had been all he'd thought when he'd packed the bag for Reese while he rested at the library. He'd worried that if left on his own, Reese wouldn't take care of his wrists, wouldn't be able to sleep despite his fatigue. And now that Leila was gone, Harold felt the loss of the baby keenly himself. The case had taken nearly as much out of him as it had Reese.

"I don't either," Reese admitted. His eyes looked deep into Harold's, as if what he found there helped him make a decision. "And by not alone, I mean you not in some room down the hall and me in here by myself." He reached up to remove Harold's glasses and placed them on the night stand. 

Feeling stripped naked without his glasses, Harold sputtered, "But... you're injured. I wouldn't want to... "

"To what, take advantage of me?" That slight smirk was back, the sweet curved line at the corner of Reese's mouth. His tone seemed to add the words "as if" to the end of his statement. "I'm not that injured, Finch."

Harold couldn't stop himself, didn't want to anymore. At least just once, he wanted to allow himself to do what he'd longed to. He leaned forward, his tongue slipping out to touch the curve next to Reese's' mouth. If Reese wanted to think he was crazy, so be it. 

Just the very tip of his tongue came into contact with Reese's cheek. His face was soft there, not hard like the man's resolve. It was smooth, elegant. It spoke of hidden depths, denied sensuality. Harold pressed his tongue against it with greater confidence, and licked. He pulled back enough to see that his tongue had made that little line wet. Reese's lips were reddened from their kiss, open and needy looking. Reese's subtle smile deepened, his eyes lighting from within at Harold's gesture. He reached up to grasp the back of Harold's neck, his touch careful and light but commanding.

Harold responded by tracing that little curve once more, drawing out the lick this time, adding more wetness, finishing with a soft nip at the corner of Reese's mouth.

John let go of Harold's neck and wrapped both arms around him. Harold dropped the gauze and antibiotic and put his own arms around Reese's waist. Reese drew them together gently, as if being careful of Harold's bodily restrictions. Harold didn't care about his own body. The only body he was interested in was John's.

He bore Reese down to the mattress. They ended up sideways across it, their legs still dangling over the side, with Harold resting over Reese's broad chest. He came face to face with one of Reese's large brown nipples and there didn't seem to be anything to do but lick it too. He was surprised when Reese gasped in reaction. He licked again, wetting the hardening bump and Reese's arms tightened around him, his chest lifting up to give Harold's mouth more access. 

Harold was delighted to find Reese so sensitive. While he bathed one nipple with his tongue, he brought his fingers up to lightly stroke and pinch the other, getting both peaked and hard in moments. Reese's fingers tangled in Harold's hair as he began to writhe beneath him. Harold could feel Reese's cock hardening against him.

Apparently not wanting to allow Harold to take all the initiative, Reese carefully turned them, putting his hands under Harold's armpits so he could slide him up further onto the bed. Then Reese joined him, resting tight against his left side, his right leg sliding over Harold's hip, his knee pressing between Harold's thighs. 

As good as Reese's knee felt pressing against his balls, Harold realized that his own arousal was going to take a bit longer than Reese's to become as pronounced. He sighed, wishing his lack of sexual activity for such an extended period would help him catch up to Reese, but he believed his injuries and medications were going to counteract his desires at least for a bit. 

"What's wrong?" Reese whispered as he took Harold's lips again, then moved to nuzzle his sideburn with his lips and nose. 

"I... I'm afraid my responses will... disappoint, Mr. Reese," Harold managed.

"What?" Reese sounded highly suspicious. "Are you trying to tell me you don't think I'm capable of getting you turned on?"

"That's not what I said," Harold was able to manage before Reese kissed him deeply again. This time, Reese's tongue delved into his mouth, making Harold shiver.

"Then it's my job performance you doubt?" Reese teased, his fingers stroking gently at Harold's throat.

"Never, Mr. Reese. It's my own... performance that I'm concerned about."

"Finch," Reese breathed. "You are one man I'd never expect to underestimate himself." With another devilish smile, he slid his fingers down along the line of Harold's robe to undo his belt. Spreading the silk fabric apart, Reese glanced down. "Finch," he said again, this time with a tone of pleased surprise.

"I told you I was on my way to shower." Harold knew he didn't quite manage to sound put upon, but he didn't care. Reese was gathering his half hard cock into his beautiful hand. Stroking him. Squeezing. Flicking his thumb over the head. Patiently repeating his motions, varying the touches to determine what worked for Harold, seeming willing to work at it all night if need be. The sensations traveled from Harold's cock up through his body, making his stomach clench, his heart pound. And it didn't take as long as he'd feared for Reese to get him finally, fully hard. 

"You can shower after," Reese promised, in a tone that told Harold he'd need one. Then, as Harold watched in amazement, Reese descended, skipping further preliminaries to take Harold's cock in his mouth.

The suction provided by Reese's skillful mouth was extraordinary. This close, Harold had no trouble focusing without his glasses and he could make out the shape of Reese's perfect lips as they wrapped around his shaft, of his incredible cheek bones above his hollowing facial muscles as he sucked him. The heat and wetness were irresistible. Reese's focus here was like it was when he was investigating a number, fully committed, intense, attentive to every detail. He sucked as if starving, all the while giving everything for Harold's pleasure. In moments, Harold found himself needing to thrust, only his weakened body preventing his movements.

Reese was perceptive. He slid hands under Harold's hips and helped lift him forward and back, allowing Harold's cock to fuck his mouth without Harold having to exert or hurt himself. Harold bent his right knee, his right hip being more easily moved, and curled his body over Reese, his hand clenching in Reese's short hair.

Reese groaned, the sound seeming to come from deep in his chest. His shoulders seemed to tense as he increased his efforts to make Harold come. Harold wanted to reciprocate, to touch Reese, but his head started spinning, his concentration overwhelmed by the sensations Reese was providing. His head fell back, his hands slipped from Reese's head, his leg dropped to the mattress. Supported by Reese's hands, he thrust up into the unselfish mouth and the only thing he remained aware of was that his cock was deep in Reese's throat, those slick muscles tight around him, still sucking. Everything felt so right, the pace, the heat, the tenderness; it was as if Reese could read his mind and knew exactly how to set the perfect rhythm.

Reese pulled off, his tongue swirling around Harold's length, lips nipping his underside just beneath the crown, finding the most sensitive spot he possessed. Harold gasped. Then Reese swallowed him whole again and Harold came, shouting his release, aware of the noise he was making yet not caring a bit about his uncharacteristic reaction. 

Reese swallowed and swallowed, continuing to suck until Harold's sensitized flesh couldn't take any more. "John... " he gasped. "John, please."

Reese lifted his head and Harold had never seen such an incandescent look on the normally stoic man's face. His eyes were bright and glowing, his face flushed, lips red, wet and swollen. His left hand slid from under Harold's ass, coming up to take hold of his cock, as though Reese couldn't bear not to be touching him. He held him carefully, as though he treasured that part of Harold more than he could say.

If he was the kind of man who was given to hyperbole, Harold would have been gushing love words at Reese. But he wasn't, and Reese was a man of few words himself. So they just looked at each other, their eyes saying everything. 

Harold wanted to kiss him again, but lying on his back, he couldn't lift his head enough to do so. Reese lifted up though, and came down to kiss Harold. This kiss was deeper and more gentle than before, as though all the words Reese couldn't say were in it. Harold felt cherished, needed. He pushed himself up, turning to cover Reese with his body, getting back where they'd started. He ran a hand down Reese's body, his fingers finding the waist band of his boxer briefs and pulling them down. Reese lifted his hips to help get them off, kicking them aside.

Reese's cock was hard and straining, slick with pre-come when Harold handled it. He thrust into Harold's grasp, panting hard. Harold knew he was close and he rifled through his repertoire of sexual ideas, wanting to give Reese as much pleasure as he'd been given. 

Harold shifted so he could see what he was doing. Reese's cock was big, dark with arousal, his balls heavy beneath. Harold pumped his length with one hand, his other palming Reese's balls. With a groan, Reese brought his legs up and back, exposing more of himself, begging without words and Harold knew what he wanted. Harold collected the wetness dripping from his cockhead, used it to slick his hand. He continued pumping Reese's cock while his wet hand delved underneath. Reese gasped and pulled his legs farther back, opening himself wider. Harold pressed against his opening, not taking his time, pushing in with two fingers, and when Reese bucked into the probe, pulling them out and adding a third, concentrating as he sought inside the slick entrance for that place that would send Reese over the edge. He found the slight bump and caressed it, still jerking Reese with his other hand and the combined sensations were enough. Reese shuddered, his whole body shaking as he came, Harold helping him finish, milking his cock, watching the streams of come splatter Reese's chest and belly. 

When it was over, Harold used some of the gauze to clean him, while Reese watched him with hooded eyes. He seemed dazed, spent in more ways than one, Harold thought. He'd known the man was close to exhaustion to begin with and their activities had clearly used up the last of his energy. Unable to keep his own smug smile from his face, Harold helped Reese get under the covers and propped his hands up on spare pillows, placing the ice bags on them. Part of him realized he'd not given a thought to Reese's wrists while they were otherwise occupied and he hoped he hadn't caused them further damage. But he was no longer worried that Reese wouldn't be able to rest now. 

He retrieved his glasses and tied his robe closed. He turned toward the door.

"Harold." Reese's voice was raspy and softer than usual.

"I'm just going to take my shower," Harold told him. "I'll be right back."

He'd sort of thought of sleeping in his own room, but he remembered what Reese had said about them not being alone. So when he was finished showering, he returned to his bedroom to put on his pajamas and collect the pillows from his bed, then returned to Reese. He was sleeping, Harold noted, glad to see him so relaxed. He took the ice bags off his wrists and put them on the nightstand along with his glasses, then eased himself into the bed next to Reese.

He made himself comfortable on his side, facing Reese, allowing himself the indulgence of reaching across his chest to hold the man while he slept. Reese sighed and shifted slightly, turning toward Harold without waking. 

Harold was under no illusions about their relationship changing. This was most likely a one time thing, both of them needing the comfort, the sharing. He didn't expect that Reese would want to make a habit of sleeping with him, but Harold would treasure the memory for a long time. If it happened again, if they could turn to each other occasionally, he would be quite happy. 

They would probably never have children or families of their own. But at least tonight, they had each other.


End file.
